


History Has Its Eyes on You

by myglassesaredirty



Series: Oh Boy, Kiddo [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, High School AU, I take that back, More tags to be added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Teacher Tony Stark, filing under Fics I Promise to Finish, filing under Fics I Really Want to Finish but Probably Will Forget About, help i’m doing homework on top of homework, how do you tag, i'm writing another chapter! it's partially finished. it's just. adhd, minimal romance, multi-chapter, no powers, public school, tony is a teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: Mr. Stark leans back in his chair. He locks his fingers together and braces his hands against the back of his head. He shakes his head, smiles, and says, with just a hint of wonder, “Kid, you’ll move mountains.”In other words, when Peter walks into the first day of school and discovers that his calculus teacher is one of the richest – and smartest – men in the world.





	1. Introductions, Pleasantries, and Derivatives

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this because I got just a little bit bitter about my government teacher, who still is somehow my favorite despite how much I just want to sass him. I need a teacher in my corner on some days, and I knew Peter would, too.
> 
> Also, who _doesn’t_ want to see Tony Stark as a teacher?

It’s not that Peter hates school, it’s just…he hates school. He hates sitting in a classroom next to Flash, and he hates how _easy_ the course material is. He hates how much time it eats into his schedule, and he hates the cafeteria food. He hates how his teachers don’t like questions, and he hates the blatant favoritism.

Regardless, he is bound by law to go to high school. So when his alarm goes off, he dutifully pushes himself out of bed, gets dressed, and brushes his teeth. He grabs a bagel from the kitchen counter and knocks on May’s door. “Bye, May!” he calls through it. “I’m heading to school!”

Before he can move, she opens the door and hugs him. “Be safe,” she says, “have fun.”

He rolls his eyes. “The words ‘fun’ and ‘school’ don’t do together in the same sentence.”

She ruffles his hair and waves goodbye to him.

By the time he gets to school, he has approximately ten minutes before the early bell rings. He has ten minutes before he is officially a junior in high school. Ten minutes left of ignorant bliss.

He glances down at his schedule and groans internally when he sees that he has Jenneths for psych. From what he’s heard, she’s not exactly the greatest teacher in the world.

Michelle Jones – intimidating, smart, and kind of pretty – sidles up to him. “Who’s your first period?” she asks, and he startles, almost dropping his schedule. She laughs at him. “I have psych first.”

Peter lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Jenneths?”

“Jenneths,” she repeats.

He groans and reaches for her schedule and she hands it to him. Really, they only have first and fifth periods together – psych and calculus. “You know who Stark is?” he asks her as she takes her schedule from him.

She shakes her head. “He’s new. Some rich guy from over in California is what I heard.”

He rolls his eyes. “Eighty bucks says he knows squat about calc.”

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Not taking that bet. You’d win.”

“Your biggest nightmare, right?”

She nods. “Always. Also, are you actually going to try to do Decathlon this year?”

“What? I did it last year.”

“You flaked like every other day.”

“Okay, but to be fair, life was weird last year.”

She opens her mouth to argue but decides against it. “Touché,” she says instead.

Ned bounds up beside them both. “Guys, guys!” He waves his schedule in the air. “Hey!”

Peter takes the paper from Ned’s hand and scans it. “Hey, we all have the same calc teacher,” he points out.

“I think that’s because he’s the only calc teacher,” Michelle says, taking the paper from Peter’s hands. “Mrs. Jaxon had her baby last year and decided not to come back.”

“That’s what happened?” Ned asks.

Before Michelle can answer, the bell rings, and they all head to their respective classes.

The prison sentence has begun.

\---

Peter shuffles into calculus class at exactly 11:36. The teacher glances at him and continues to write something on the board, but he points to one of the desks up front. “You sit here.”

Peter furrows his brow but drops his backpack by the desk and slides into the chair. “You’re Mr. Stark?”

“Call me Tony.” Mr. Stark bites his top lip, trying to assess his problem. “What did you guys learn in precal last year?”

Peter squints at the board. “We got to trigonometric identities. Michelle would know better than I would, sir.”

Speaking of the devil, Michelle is the next person to walk into the classroom. Mr. Stark points her to the desk beside Peter. “You’re next to him. Where did you guys leave off last year with Mrs. Jaxon?”

She slides into her seat. “Permutations. Why?”

Mr. Stark winces. “We’ll need a little bit of review, then.”

The rest of the class shuffles in about a minute before the tardy bell, and Mr. Stark points them to their respective places. Flash is sitting in the back, as far away from Peter as possible.  
Mr. Stark sets down his marker and crosses to his desk, picking up a stack of papers. “This is your syllabus. Your test and quiz dates are all on here. I will randomly assign homework when I feel like it.” He hands a stack of three papers to Peter, and he passes them back. “This is an advanced math course, so I expect you all to be honest with your work. Come talk to me during lunch, before school, or after school if you have any problems. If you have a study hall, you are always welcome to come into any of my classes.”

Peter and Michelle share a look.

“My goal is to for you to understand the material. I don’t care if you like this class or not; I am here to teach you, not to make you like me. Any questions?”

In the back of the room, Flash raises his hand. “Will you ever think about adjusting the exam schedule? I don’t think I can deal with a quiz every Tuesday.”

Mr. Stark smiles. “Mr. Thompson, if you think it is too difficult, you are more than welcome to drop out of this class.”

Flash shuts up.

When no one else moves to ask any questions, Mr. Stark claps his hands. “Right! So, rules: there are very few. No cheating, no PDA, and no God-awful music. If you think your music falls under God-awful, it probably does, but if there are any curious wonders in here, the list of acceptable music is back there.” The class turns to see the laminated paper he’s pointing at. “You get extra credit if I did something wrong and you catch it before I do –” he pauses and grins again, much more warmly than when he smiled at Flash, “– but I should warn you, no one ever has. I will have a question of the day up on the board, and you can only be late if you answer it correctly. Again, no one has gotten it right. And yes, you are allowed to curse in this classroom.”

The class erupts in applause, and Mr. Stark bows. “Get it, got it, good? Good.” He turns to the board and starts scribbling a problem. You may want to take notes.”

There’s shuffling all around as the students reach for their binders and pull out sheets of paper, and before long, Mr. Stark is going off on a tangent about trigonometric graphs and how much he hates trigonometry.

And when the bell rings, well…

Peter must admit it’s a bit too soon.

\---

He’s noticed that the cafeteria usually tries really hard to make actual food during the first week of school. After that, they usually give up. For now, he gets a scoop of mashed potatoes, a bag of potato chips, a cookie, and the chicken strips.

Over in the corner of the cafeteria, Michelle sits by herself, and her head is bent over. At first, Peter assumes she’s just reading a book, but when he gets closer, he can see her scribbling something in her notebook.

“I feel like Mr. Stark is going to be our hardest teacher,” is all she says when he sets his tray down across from her.

He shrugs and sits. “Maybe. He seems pretty cool, though.”

“Oh, yeah, no doubt about it.”

Ned plops down in the seat next to Peter. “Have you had calc yet? What’s the new teacher like?”

“Hard,” Michelle says.

“Cool,” Peter says at the same time.

Ned looks between them and takes a bite out of one of the chicken strips. “I’m going to trust Peter on this one. Sorry, Michelle, I’ve known him longer.”

She shrugs. “Whatever.”

\---

When the bell rings, Peter almost lets the crowd of kids carry him out of the school, but he stops and reconsiders, turning on his heel and weaving his way through the masses to get back to Mr. Stark’s room.

Mr. Stark is packing his laptop and papers in his bag by the time Peter gently knocks on the door. “Mr. Stark?” Peter asks tentatively. “I, um, I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you or anything –”

Tony smiles and waves him in. “No, no, it’s fine. What’s up? Peter, right?”

Peter blinks. “Uh, yeah, I-I’m Peter. Um, the answer of the day is…” He squints at the whiteboard. The question scrawled at the top says **_Q1 > a,b, and c are integers and a<b<c. S is the set of all integers from a to b, inclusive. Q is the set of all integers from b to c, inclusive. The median of Set S is (3/4)b. The median of set Q is (7/8)c. If R is the set of all integers from a to c, inclusive, what fraction of c is the median of set R?_**

“Shit,” he murmurs, and he can hear Tony laugh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he says.

Tony waves a hand. “It’s fine, kid. You’re allowed to curse in this room.”

Peter nods, and the tip of his tongue sticks out as he tries to determine the question. “Is it –” he starts before reconsidering. “Is it eleven over sixteen?”

Mr. Stark raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, actually. It is. Good job, Mr. Parker.”

Peter smiles and waves at him. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. Have a good day!”

Mr. Stark smiles. “You too, Peter.”

\---

Peter really doesn’t have a lot of homework, but once he gets home, he pulls out his calculus notebook and turns to his notes. He plays around with some of the equations, and once he thinks he’s fully grasped the concept, he stands to get himself a snack.

May opens the door and walks into the kitchen with a paper grocery bag in her arms. She smiles at him. “How was your first day of school?”

Peter shrugs. “Normal. Ned and I only have English together, but Michelle and I have psych and calc together.”

May sets the bag on the countertop. “Oh? Michelle, isn’t she the Decathlon captain?”

Peter nods and moves to help her unload. “Yeah, actually. Our psych teacher is terrible already.”

“It’s the first day, Peter, how can you tell?”

Peter looks up and quirks an eyebrow. “Magic,” he says.

May laughs. “Anything else? Anything interesting?”

“Um, yeah, actually. We have a new math teacher, and he’s really cool but he seems like he’s really hard. I like him.”

“Calc?”

“Yeah. We have a quiz next Tuesday in his class.”

May furrows her eyebrows as she lifts bananas out of the grocery bag. “Already?”

Peter waves a hand in the air. “Syllabus. I think he’s treating it like he would college.”

May purses her lips. “Makes sense. It’s an advanced math course. Put these up, please,” she says, extending a couple of boxes of macaroni to him.

He takes them and puts them in one of the cabinets.

He already knows that tomorrow…

Tomorrow is ready for him.


	2. Just a Normal Day in the Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the third week of school, and now there’s a system in the school hierarchy – Peter, as a certified nerd™, shows up early and tries to do homework in the library. Some stuff is interesting. And the _tests._
> 
> Oh, also, the new math teacher is apparently really rich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not forgotten about this fic, my padwans!!! I really enjoy this, don’t get me wrong, but I started writing it and then took a break so I could get back into the school feel. Unfortunately, the school feel is a solid twenty-five minutes for me to catch up on homework, so I don’t really have time to write.
> 
> Don’t worry though!! I am going to finish this if it kills me!! I will! I think I have a plan for this, but right now, it’s all touch and go.
> 
> If you want to see more of my works, _M*A*S*H: Mobile Army Surgical Hospital_ and _No Mountain You Won’t Climb Up_ are my two main WIPs.
> 
> And without further ado…

“He’s _Tony fucking Stark_ ,” Michelle says, dropping her books on the library table. Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, and he puts a hand up to his chest where he can feel his heart racing after being scared out of his fucking mind.

He shoots Michelle his best glare. “You’re supposed to be quiet in the library.”

She pulls out the chair in front of her and sits down. “I don’t care; it’s before school hours. Regardless, he’s Tony frickin’ Stark.”

Peter shrugs. “So?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “ _So_ ,” she says, “I thought that name was familiar, and I looked it up. Four PhDs. _Four_. Graduated _MIT_ at the age of fourteen. This guy is a literal genius. I have no idea what his IQ is, and I’m kind of scared to ask.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Dámela,” he says, gesturing to her computer.

“Why not just use your own?”

“It’s dead. Dámela,” he repeats.

She sighs but pushes it over.

The Google results are…surprising. His calculus teacher has his own Wikipedia page, and it is no secret – according to the Internet – that Mr. Stark owns a multi-billion dollar company.

“Wait, _he_ owns Stark Industries? Our math teacher designed my phone?”

The librarian looks up from her desk and shushes them. Peter looks over his shoulder and mumbles an apology.

Michelle reaches over and takes her computer back. “I told you.”

“Why did he decide to work here? It’s not like he needs money.”

“It’s not like teachers make money.” Michelle flips the laptop lid closed and puts it in her backpack. She zips it closed and leans forward, propping her chin in her hand.

“Touché.” Peter taps against the table. “But still, why here? Why not, like, Rochester?”

She yawns and stretches. “I don’t know, but I’m going to ask him.” She suddenly remembers something and taps the space in front of him to get his attention. “Also, don’t forget we have Decathlon practice after school today.”

“I showed up last time!” he says in indignation. He slings his backpack on his shoulder, taking longer strides to catch up to her.

“Yeah, but you skip, like, all the time.”

The bell rings before Peter can respond, so he sticks his tongue out at her when they part ways to get to their lockers. A couple is standing in front of his locker, and he reaches around them and unlocks it, trying to pull out his psych binder without smacking either of them in the head.

“Idiots,” he mumbles to himself as he treks up the stairs. He slides into his desk, finding that Michelle had left him something on his desk. He picks up the piece of paper and unfolds it, and written in her scrawled handwriting, is the title of a book. He squints at the title again and looks for her in the midst of teenagers pushing each other around.

Mrs. Jenneths stands timidly at the front of the room. She tries to calm down the rowdier football players, but it’s Michelle who gets them into their seats when she purposefully drops her book as loudly as she can. The football players trip over each other to get in their desks, and Mrs. Jenneths breathes out a sigh and brushes her pasty blonde hair from her face.

Mrs. Jenneths starts teaching – or rather, she begins talking about her cat and how it clawed her furniture yesterday and is that really normal…

“Get it a scratching post,” Michelle mutters. “Cats need one.”

Mrs. Jenneths tilts her head inquisitively. “What?”

Peter just shakes his head, takes out his notebook, and adds _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep_ to his reading list.

\---

There’s something fascinating about the human body. The complexity of it, how even the smallest systems know exactly how to operate in order to keep the body going. Life should never have happened, and somehow, it did, and Peter can’t imagine not being in awe of it.

The bell rings almost too soon, and he immediately packs up. Calc is his next class, and even though there should be a test today, he’s looking forward to the class.

Mr. Stark looks up with a small smile when Peter barrels into the room. Peter looks around sheepishly and shrugs. “I worked out the extra credit problems you gave me yesterday.” He fishes the papers out of his textbook and passes them to Mr. Stark. “Only number 13 gave me trouble.”

Mr. Stark takes the assignment and places it next to his computer. “Just that eager for a 107, eh?”

Peter shrugs and slides into his desk. “This is my favorite class, is all.”

Mr. Stark smiles. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll check your work after class.”

Michelle stalks over to Mr. Stark’s desk and hands him the same assignment. “Peter got number 13 right. I checked it. He’s smarter than he gives himself credit for.”

Mr. Stark laughs. “I’m sure he is.” He gestures to the two of them. “Aren’t you two tied for valedictorian or something?”

“Yeah,” Peter answers the same time Michelle says, “I’m technically ahead, but whatever.”

Mr. Stark looks between the two of them. “Higher grades?” he asks Michelle.

“More well-rounded,” she responds, sliding into her seat.

“No life,” Peter answers for her.

She glares at him.

The rest of the class filters in with about two minutes until the tardy bell rings. Mr. Stark gives them that time for them to chatter on about life, and Michelle asks Peter how anatomy class was today.

“Fascinating,” he says.

“We’re learning about the cell, Peter.”

“Fascinating,” he repeats.

The bell rings, and the entire class immediately shuts up and waits for Mr. Stark to begin class. He sits on his stool behind his podium, and to his left, a problem is scribbled on the board.

“I know this all looks like a foreign language, and for the most part, it is a foreign language. But I’m not going into that. Take notes, my little grasshoppers. Today you learn about multivariable calc.”

Peter takes notes as quickly as he can, and at some point, Mr. Stark points to him, and he flounders like a fish out of water. “I, uh…the – the answer is 408 over 5.”

“Good,” Mr. Stark says. He tilts his stool back. “Guys, you know what I hate? I hate Snapchat. You know why?” He lets his stool fall back to the ground, and he glances around at the class. “I have had students tell their friends about ‘dating,’” Mr. Stark uses air quotes, “people they’ve never physically met. What if they’re perverts? Huh? You ever think about that? What if they already are dating someone else? You don’t know this. Also it’s not in chronological order and I really hate that.”

The class chuckles. Mr. Stark points to the back of the room, where Gentry Adamson sits. “What music are you listening to, Gentry?”

She looks up sheepishly and unplugs her earbuds. “Oh, I uh…”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I don’t know if it’s on the list of forbidden music, sir.”

Mr. Stark rubs his hands together. “I’ll be the judge of that. Even the worst bands have good songs.”

Gentry bites her top lip and presses the space bar. “Saturn” by Sleeping at Last starts playing.

“Plus five on your next test!” Mr. Stark shouts immediately, scribbling something on his sticky note pad. “That is a great band. Solid. 10 out of 10. Love it. Thanks, Gentry.”

She laughs.

Before much else can be said, however, the bell rings, and the class tries to hide their disappointment as they pack their bags and get ready to go to lunch.

\---

He waits until May has fallen asleep, and then he slips out of his room and starts making himself a cup of tea. He sets the microwave timer a couple of seconds longer than normal to avoid to the loud beeping that will inevitably wake his aunt. If she wakes up, she’ll find out he’s working on his English essay into the wee hours of the morning, and not only that, but she’ll turn off the wifi and make sure he gets his rest.

He doesn’t have that kind of time.

He scrubs a hand over his face and shifts his weight from foot to foot. Right now, he’s glad for the fuzzy socks Ned gave him last Christmas because they’re really, _really_ comfortable. The microwave numbers tick down, and with three seconds to go, he opens the microwave door and pinches the handle between his fingers. Peter waits until it’s cooled just a little before he pads back to his bedroom and prepares to write that essay for English class.

Honestly, at this point, he has no idea what he’s actually writing. He takes a drink from his mug and glances at his outline, pecking away at the computer keys. It’s some BS about Gatsby’s character development, and Peter really couldn’t care less. He hated the book anyways.

He finishes the essay by two in the morning, and then he turns to his economics assignment. It doesn’t take him too long to look up the vocab words, and once he’s got them written down, he goes to Michelle’s quizlet and tests himself over the material.

By three in the morning, his body is begging him to give in to the sweet temptation of sleep, but he has more homework to take care of. He has work tomorrow afternoon. It’s not like he has the time to rest, what with homework and all.

Peter pushes aside the rest of his assignments and starts working through his math. Finally, he reaches a problem and he just can’t work it out – he’s hit a roadblock, and he checks over his work and can’t find where he went wrong. With a sigh, he opens his laptop and emails Mr. Stark.

**Subject: Math Help  
Mr. Stark, I know it’s really late (early?) and you’re probably asleep, but I’m trying to work through the homework you gave us, and I don’t understand #8. I can’t find where I went wrong, and I was just wondering if you could explain it to me tomorrow morning before school starts.**

**Respectfully,  
Peter Parker**

He yawns and tilts his mug to find that he’s finished his tea. He considers getting up to make another mug, but he decides against it. He’s about to turn in for the night when he notices that Mr. Stark has responded.

**Re: Math Help  
Jesus, kid, you’re still up at this hour? Doing my homework? Why? I should make that a rule. Remind me to make that a new rule of mine: no staying up til the wee hours of the morning doing what I assigned. Anyways, I’m still up, so I might as well help you. Can you send me a picture of what you’ve got thus far? Maybe I can find it.**

**Also, just fyi, the more sleep-deprived you are, the more likely you are to make mistakes and then you’re going to get more confused and then you’re just going to start a cycle. I’ll help you on this one, but then I DEMAND that you go the hell to sleep after this. Capiche?**

**\---  
Tony Stark**

Peter blinks at the message through bleary eyes, and then he snaps a picture of his paper.

**Re: Math Help  
Attachment: [photo]**

**Respectfully,  
Peter Parker**

Peter gets up to use the bathroom, and he closes the lid when he flushes the toilet so the sound won’t reach May. He opts against washing his hands, instead grabbing his hand sanitizer as a form of disinfectant. When he sits back down at his desk, he opens Mr. Stark’s reply.

**Re: Math Help  
You forgot the damn negative on the exponent, Peter.**

**\---  
Tony Stark**

He squints at the laptop screen and then at his paper, and it’s with sudden clarity that he sees the stupid mistake he made. He gasps, smacks his forehead, and mutters “idiot” to himself. He erases the work he has now and works through it again, this time taking the negative into account. The problem is easy now that the mistake is corrected. Once he’s finished, he breathes a sigh of relief and sends Mr. Stark one last email.

**Re: Math Help  
Thank you, Mr. Stark.**

**Respectfully, Peter Parker**

He pushes his homework aside and his screen lights up with another message.

**Re: Math Help  
No problemo, kid. Now get the hell to sleep before I tell your aunt that you haven’t been sleeping.**

**\---  
Tony Stark**

Peter smiles, runs a hand through his hair, and crawls into his bed.

It’s warm, and it’s inviting, and he doesn’t know how likely it is he’ll wake up when his alarm goes off in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I’ve never taken calculus. I’m taking that next year. WHAT IS CALC????? I DONUT UNDERSTAND.
> 
> Also if someone could please explain trig to me, that would so 9000% appreciated.
> 
> And btw, I use the phrase “dámela” so much in my everyday vocabulary that it’s a bit of a problem.


End file.
